He dared not leave the fellow there. "He
may be affiliated to the police," was the thought that passed through
his mind. "Who could tell?" But eyeing the miserable frost-nipped,
famine-struck figure of his companion he perceived the absurdity of his
suspicion.
"But I--you know--I don't belong to any circle. I...."
He dared not say any more. Neither dared he mend his pace. The
other, raising and setting down his lamentably shod feet with exact
deliberation, protested in a low tone that it was not necessary for
everybody to belong to an organization. The most valuable personalities
remained outside. Some of the best work was done outside the
organization. Then very fast, with whispering, feverish lips--
"The man arrested in the street was Haldin."
And accepting Razumov's dismayed silence as natural enough, he assured
him that there was no mistake. That Government clerk was on night duty
at the Secretariat. Hearing a great noise of footsteps in the hall and
aware that political prisoners were brought over sometimes at night from
the fortress, he opened the door of the room in which he was working,
suddenly. Before the gendarme on duty could push him back and slam the
door in his face, he had seen a prisoner being partly carried, partly
dragged along the hall by a lot of policemen.
Pages:
77
78
79
80
81
82
83
84
85
86
87
88
89
90
91
92
93
94
95
96
97
98
99
100
101